


Several Reasons Why

by Lohrendrell



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Also can be read a Pre-Romantic Geralt/Regis/Dandelion, Book: Chrzest ognia | Baptism of Fire, Hinted Romantic Geralt/Dandelion, Interlude, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Or even Regis/Dandelion, Spoilerish, but it can be read as platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:14:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27031006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lohrendrell/pseuds/Lohrendrell
Summary: “It doesn’t bother me that we have a skillful doctor to accompany us,” Dandelion said, turning his head to look at Regis. He had the impression the vampire had been watching him watch Geralt, but clouds covered the moon, leaving them in complete darkness. “Quite the contrary. I’m certain your company will come in handy to our little group.” After a moment of consideration, he added, “And, if I’m being quite honest, you’re quite pleasant to talk to.”“Well, I’m flattered,” Regis said, and Dandelion thought he saw fangs molding what should’ve been a smile. If asked, the poet would say it was the chilly wind that made him shudder, even though the night was quite warm and breezeless..In which Dandelion is afraid of sleeping and Regis doesn't need to.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy
Comments: 18
Kudos: 79





	Several Reasons Why

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Arreloi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arreloi/gifts).



> Written for the lovely Arreloi, who suggested on Tumblr the prompt "Why are you helping me?" with any of the members of Geralt's Hansa. I loved that prompt because it gave me the opportunity to write Regis ;__; I love him so much!
> 
> About the bunch of tags referring to the relationships in this: It's all very vague on purpose. It can be read as romantic Geralt/Jaskier, as pre-romantic Dandelion/Regis (DUDE I SHIP IT, I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW BEFORE THIS) or Geralt/Regis/Dandelion, or even as platonic all around! This is a "to each their own" scenario for sure :D
> 
> Warning for possible spoilers for Baptism of Fire. This is spoilerish, but not really, but if you don't want to know what happens when the characters get to a certain point of the books, you might not want to read this one.

Dandelion rolled over on the bundle of fabrics that was serving as improvised bedding, and opened his eyes to see Regis sitting not two meters away from him, staring at the sky. It wasn’t an unusual sight. Even while travelling alongside Zoltan Chivay’s company, Regis made a habit of keeping watches while everyone else slept. More than once, Dandelion had listened to the dwarves belittling Regis for taking too long to wake any of them up to change shifts. Sometimes, apparently, Regis didn’t even wake anyone up, and strangely never seemed bothered by the lack of sleep the following morning.

Well, now Dandelion knew why.

“Why are you helping me? Us?” Dandelion asked, whispering it, careful to not wake up the rest of their little company and knowing Regis would be able to listen.

“You should be sleeping,” Regis said, whispering as well. “Sleep will help you heal faster.”

Dandelion touched the bandages in his head. He was scared of falling asleep. He had heard too many tales of knights who bravely walked for an entire day after receiving a blow to the head, and laid down to rest later in the night as if nothing had happened, only to never come back. The danger was in sleeping too much after bleeding a lot, or maybe it was something in the brain, or—

“It’s called a concussion,” Regis said, “a violent shock from a head wound that might lead to temporary confusion or incapacity, or sometimes death, if not treated right and fast. You, however, are in no danger of such aftereffects. Believe me. You can sleep. I’m sure you’re tired.”

“I am…” Dandelion said, but didn’t close his eyes. It took him too long to realize he had never uttered a word. Differently from when sorceresses did it, he didn’t feel Regis poking at his mind at all. “You didn’t answer me,” he said.

“Does it bother you?” Regis asked. “You didn’t seem particularly bothered with my medical assistance before… well…” He gestured vaguely.

“That’s not what bothers me.”

“Would you mind being clearer, then?”

“Can’t you read my mind and find out?”

“I believe it upsets you, so I prefer not to do it again.”

Dandelion huffed. “Anyone who’s met any sorcerer or sorceress skillful enough will be upset with having their mind invaded. Although I admit to have thought about this as an outlet when I’m having difficulties with a particularly troublesome rhyme.”

“Oh?”

“It could be nice—potentially—to have someone expressing in coherent words the sentiment you’re trying to convey without any sort of actual conversation. On the other hand, it would mean sharing the benefits of whatever we came up with, which spoils the appeal of it all.”

Regis chuckled, but said no more.

Dandelion rolled onto his back. On his other side, Geralt slept close, sharing the makeshift bedroll, as they often did. It was the least Dandelion could do; it had been Geralt who set the bedding for him, disrespecting their companions’ privacy as he rummaged through their possessions in search for furs, bedsheets, or even winter cloaks, and finding only barely suitable fabric.

When asked why all that concern, Geralt had claimed he didn’t want to risk the gash getting infected because of the dirty forest floor. However, Dandelion knew the truth: Geralt felt guilty, certainly thinking he failed him by letting him be hurt under his watch. Dandelion would have to set him aside in the morning and convince his thickheaded witcher that there was no better way Geralt could have handled the situation. They were caught in the middle of a violent bloodshed, and still Geralt protected him. He could have died, and yet, here he was, being ushered to sleep by a friendly vampire and with a minor head wound not dangerous enough to prevent him from never waking up again, according to the same friendly vampire.

He could already foresee the argument that would follow. Dandelion had been through worse (“No, you haven’t!”), and the whole experience had certainly taught him how to be a warrior (“No, it didn’t, don’t be ridiculous!”), and really, he was fine, _really, don’t worry, don’t feel guilty, we got the best outcome that could’ve happened_.

Dandelion, too, could be very stubborn, and he often got his way in arguments with Geralt. For now, though, he would let the witcher rest.

“It doesn’t bother me that we have a skillful doctor to accompany us,” Dandelion said, turning his head to look at Regis. He had the impression the vampire had been watching him watch Geralt, but clouds covered the moon, leaving them in complete darkness. “Quite the contrary. I’m certain your company will come in handy to our little group.” After a moment of consideration, he added, “And, if I’m being quite honest, you’re quite pleasant to talk to.”

“Well, I’m flattered,” Regis said, and Dandelion thought he saw fangs molding what should’ve been a smile. If asked, the poet would say it was the chilly wind that made him shudder, even though the night was quite warm and breezeless.

“Are you? I would’ve imagined a creatu—” he cleared his throat “—an individual such as yourself wouldn’t care much for a simple human’s opinion.”

“And why is that?” Regis asked, calmly as usual. “Do humans often hold unflattering notions of their own opinions?”

“Most certainly not,” Dandelion said, “I’m afraid it’s the exact opposite, actually. In my years, I’ve seen that the most infamous of opinions are regarded with high, albeit undeserved, notoriety. The truly notorious opinions are found within the simplest of minds, and therefore, unfortunately, are completely disregarded.”

“Was that observation born out of experience?”

“Absolutely.”

“So are you one of the simple humans with opinions deserving of high esteem or one of the infamous one, whom I should not be paying attention to?”

Dandelion giggled. “You’ll find, my dear vampire, that I’m a little bit of both. As humans often are! Even though the opinions of poets are often disregarded except when it comes to matters of literature and entertainment.” A pause for consideration, and he added, “Although I wouldn’t listen to me when it comes to battlefield strategy, if honesty is a must.”

“A pity,” Regis said. “About poets’ status, I mean. You’d think societies that shout their supposed properness to the four winds would hold the minds of actual thinkers as high as their kings’ honor.”

“Sometimes, the honor of kings is as made up as the most charming of love tales.”

“You would know much about that, would you?”

Dandelion shrugged. “It so happens that I have been commissioned once or twice to compose ballads to depict the bravery of our esteemed rulers. One of the hardest things, let me tell you, to extract the lyrics of a song about a king who moved mountains from the time he tried to chase a goose and fell butt-first into a pile of mud—and not make it sound mocking to his court.”

Regis laughed—a real laughter, somewhat loud, somewhat boisterous, and a little bit embarrassing. “I know that song,” he said.

“I’m very proud of that one,” Dandelion said. Geralt moved, and for a moment Dandelion thought the vampire’s laughter had disturbed the witcher into awakeness, but other than sniffing once, Geralt didn’t stir. His hand found Dandelion’s middle, landing heavily on his stomach, and Dandelion covered it with one of his own, intertwining their fingers.

“Unfortunately,” Regis said, sobering up, “these unspoken rules aren’t exclusive to the human race.”

“Oh? Does the vampiric society also have its share of hypocrites?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Is that why you chose to live in isolation, in an abandoned cottage in the backyard of an ancient cemetery? I might not know much about you, my friend, but I know people. I could be wrong, but I wouldn’t ever say recovering from addiction is reason enough to detach oneself from the rest of the world.”

It all went silent for a long while before Regis finally said, “When our journey is over I’ll tell you the whole story.”

Dandelion hummed. “Alright. I’ll gladly hear it, preferably over good bottles of the finest ale. I’ll hold you to that promise, don’t think I won’t.”

“I know you will.”

“Good.” Dandelion sighed, closed his eyes, which were starting to become a little heavy, and opened them again. “You still haven’t answered me.”

“I helped you because you were hurt. You needed me, and I could help. So I helped.”

“And Geralt?” Dandelion asked. “Why are you willing to help Geralt in his search for Ciri? You barely met him and already you risked your life to save us from those soldiers.”

“I would hardly describe what happened there as dangerous to my life.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

He looked at Regis again, and this time, he could swear he saw a pair of shiny spheres where the vampire’s eyes should be, staring back at him. Regis chuckled. “I could ask you the same thing,” he said. “You’re very protective of him, I see. Even though you’re no warrior, and he’s the one saving you from harm most of the time.”

“Pff. I’ve known Geralt for nearly two decades. That alone should be enough to answer. What does it matter if he was taught to deflect daggers and chase nightmarish monsters? I was taught to play the lute and sing of beauty and wonders.”

“I see.” Regis hummed. “Very well. Once this is all over with, I’ll hold you to that offer of fine ale. Go to sleep now. It’s late, and I’m sure we’ve woken up our companions with our incessant talking.”

Somewhere on the other side of the now put-out fire, Milva hummed, and Cahir sniffed.

“Alright, alright,” Dandelion said, and rolled to his side, facing Geralt, who drew him closer as he finally drifted off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments make me smile :D


End file.
